Scent of the Future Special Edition Chapter
by Phoenix13
Summary: MOVIEVERSE Optimus Prime smuggles Elita away from the prying optics of his troops for some precious alone time after many eons apart. CH.4 Optimus and Elita in the wash racks. Ultra Magnus looks after the sparklings from the pit.
1. Chapter 1

**Scent of the Future – Special Edition**

_Authors Note_: This is the 'M' rated chapter that belongs after Chapter 4 of 'Scent of the Future'. It's what happened after Optimus took Elita into his quarters for some private time.

Many thanks to Plenoptic for chasing my butt around with heavy objects and threatening violence on my head unless I hurried up and finished this! She's a sweetie. LOL There may or may not be another 'M' chapter to come. That depends. We'll see! There's also a big clue to what happens next in 'Scent of the Future' in this, but you'll have to be awake to catch it.

* * *

Elita One let herself be lowered gently onto the recharge berth belonging to her sparkmate, Optimus Prime. She stared up at him avidly, expectant, waiting – too much time had passed since they had shared sparks or been able to complete an interface session.

"Give me one moment..." Optimus stood back, re-routing his comlink and other communications devices to Prowl and Jazz. He was not going to stand for interruptions of any kind until he was ready to receive them.

Which might be a while...

"One moment?" Elita arched an optic ridge, smoothing one of her hands over her newly armored form appreciatively. "I think I'd like to wash some of this filth off from driving if you're going to take one moment." She stood up, intending to head for the private wash area her mate had installed in the corner of his spacious quarters. She couldn't imagine linking with her partner in the _public_ wash racks. Although Jazz and Ironhide would enjoy the view, and offer unashamed running commentary. Bumblebee would be shocked enough to crash to the floor and go into involuntary stasis.

"No, Elita, stop," Prime held out an arm to stall her. She ducked under it with a laugh. Optimus swivelled upon one large foot, gazing after his partner. "Lita, wait!"

She ignored him, getting closer to the water facility. She knew he liked to chase after her.

"Wha..." Elita gasped at the firm hand which enclosed on her arm. The other hand held onto her shoulder and backed her up wilfully so she was stumbling along in reverse with the large mass of her sparkmate's chest blocking her view. "Optimus?!"

She looked up in shock at her bonded. Her back collided with a soft thump to the wall. Optimus was towering over her with his massive physique. His shoulders and chest blocked out the light from above. His optics shed blue luminescence over her captured form. He didn't say anything for a second, just staring down at her, the lower regions of his face dark and the spark in his chest offering faint flashing light between the thin spaces in his chest armor. She blinked up at him, her hands tucked up against her own chest. What was he doing?

"Hey! Back up! Let me go!" She poked a stiff finger into his chestplates for emphasis.

"You are very... beautiful, Elita. Very beautiful."

"Yeah, thanks, but," she looked for a way to slip out from his embrace and deliver a playful kick to his arrogant aft. "Can we go back to your berth?"

"No." His voice was firm, reverberating and utterly steady.

"...No?"

"I want to show you how much I appreciate you."

Long red and blue armored legs shifted to encase her lower body within their confines, snuggling around her hips and thighs.

"How much I love you."

His hands trailed down from her shoulders, down her arms, to settle possessively on her hip plates.

"How much my spark _screams_ for yours."

His crotch armor pressed into her abdomen. He played with a few more alternating magnetic fields while rubbing his body against hers. The back of her head hit the wall with rhythmic thumps, echoing the mag fields being swept up and down her body for her pleasure.

Her body shuddered when he finally ceased with the magnetics, bent over, planted one hand above her head on the wall, and brushed his mouthplates against the side of her head. "Do you find it amusing to make me work for every touch you allow me to have?" he asked softly.

"What? O-Optimus-"

He cut her off by pressing the front of his body more authoratively against her, "Mmmm? What was that?"

"I... I..."

Prime smiled predatorily, "I thought so." Keeping one hand on the wall, pinning her gently with his heavy physique, he brought his other hand down to stroke his thumb along the side of her cheek. "Can I not do as I please as well? I am one half of this relationship, am I not?" Before he had even finished speaking, he had reached out with a localised magnetic field and dragged it playfully over the front of her chestplates.

"...ugh! Primus!" She squirmed and undulated with pleasure, caught between the wall and her lover. Her spark was fluttering, banging against it's metallic restraints.

He used the magnetic field again, this time grazing her with extravagant swirls, watching as her optics fizzed out and a long groan was wrenched from her throat. He kept her enclosed between himself and the wall, he was not going to give her one little miniscule opportunity to resist or escape.

When he deemed her compliant enough to his wishes, he set about the next phase of his little dominating seduction. Dropping his arms down, he lifted her up by her hips and settled her legs around his hip armor. Her body began to slip down the wall. He angled his hips under hers to keep her back pressed up to the wall. Her face was now much closer to his own.

Prime slid a thumb back and forth under her jaw, tipping her head back and stroking her chin, watching her reactions. She moaned and quivered.

She yelped when he brought his face close up to hers, optic-to-optic, almost brushing each other's nose plates, "Who do you belong to?" he rumbled demandingly. His gaze was menacing, promising that if she brought forth the wrong answer, she was likely to find the support that was holding her up being suddenly withdrawn, and her aft hitting the floor with no grace what-so-ever.

"Uh..."

His optics flashed, "Who?"

"Umm..." She stifled a giggle with a cough.

She was pulled away from the wall abruptly, causing her to shriek and flail helpless arms around the sides of his wide chest. Her thighs clenched hard around his hips, but they alone weren't enough to stop her upper half from hanging in the air and dragging her downwards slowly, since his hands were weakening their grasp on her hips.

"Who?" Optimus commanded stiffly, looking down at her hanging off his body.

"You! Oh God, you, for Primus' sake!"

Optimus purred, his faceplates relaxing, and pressed her back safely against the wall. He nuzzled the side of her neck, replacing all of the support she had lost. She wriggled to get comfortable, pulling herself up, scraping her rose armor against his red and blue accented metal.

Her arms slid around his neck. "Optimus," she whispered into his neck armor. It felt good to be home. To be in the arms of the one mech she loved.

Lifting her head and reaching around with one careful hand, she wriggled her fingers into the gaps in his neck armor, and smiled with satisfaction when he shuddered and his knees went weak, causing them both to drop downwards for a shocking second before her strong mate got himself back together. Optimus had a weak spot for being caressed around his throat and neck with her fingers, especially if she could get in far enough to reach his underlying protoform. His chest and back were other favourite places too.

"No."

Elita's hand was plucked sharply from Prime's chest region. Her legs were pulled off his hips and allowed to drop to the floor.

"Hey!" The Femme Commander fought back, her servos and hydraulics whirring against Optimus' utterly gentle but confining rock-steady grip on her forearms.

He dipped his head to be blue-optic-to-blue-optic with his mate, "You don't get to touch me – yet."

"Slag it!"

"...Grumpy femme," Optimus smirked. Then he growled deeply, making her freeze with shock, "Disobedient femme."

"Are you going to put holes in the walls and rip out the ceiling like Ironhide does when he goes too long without a ..." Elita retorted, then flash-searched the internet for a suitably repulsive word, "fuck?"

"I might," Prime lazily stroked a finger down over her chestplate, then pressed his large palm over her smaller sized chest, holding her still while his other hand slipped down to her thigh enticingly. Her optics strained to look downwards at such an angle to see what his finger was up to. "That's up to me," he cupped her crotch and pressed inwards, "not you."

"I don't think-"

Her body was lifted up, swung around, and placed facing the wall so fast she couldn't compute what had happened. She put her hands on the wall, feeling Optimus pinning her there from behind with his bulk. She was totally trapped. Her optics looked upwards when his large grey hands were slowly planted on the wall, either side of her head.

"I think, not you. I command, not you," his words were a sensual whisper straight into her attentive audio, full of masculine authority and pride.

Elita laughed, shaking off the shiver of longing that rolled over her chassis, "You're just being-"

His hips pinned her harder. His presence was smothering. His head looked over her shoulder with glowing optics.

"No, no you're not, no problem," she hurriedly agreed. _Better to give in and do what he wants._ Internally she was grinning, even if her outer self was putting on a submissive show, who knew just how far her mech's little show of dominant force might go?

Prime grunted, turned her round again, picked her up, and dumped her without grace over his right-hand shoulder, leaving her to hang there and grab any hand-hold she could manage, then began walking to his oversized recharge berth.

"WHAT THE _SLAG_ ARE YOU DOING?!" she screeched. Wow, she had a great view of his aft from here. She just couldn't quite reach it with her fingertips.

"Did I say you could speak?"

"Fuck that! I'm calling for Ironhide!"

"Do that, and I'll chain you to the berth, insolent female."

"AS IF!"

"And then invite Ironhide in for some instructive help on how to deal with femmes who can't keep their mouthplates shut," Optimus said conversationally, "Although, considering what 'Hide would do to you, you'd have your mouthplates open long and loud. And I get to watch."

Elita went stone cold silent. Mouthplates shut. _Oh, pit._

"Much better."

Elita was slipped off his shoulder and dropped back-first onto the semi-soft covering of the recharge berth. She bounced twice and then lay still.

"Ugh." Her head lifted to stare at him. She'd always liked his thighs. So strong and thick. Especially when he was bracing himself at the end of the bed with his hands palm down on his hips and he was moments away from taking her.

Optimus arched an optic ridge at her, "Pardon?"

She smiled sweetly and kept her vocaliser idle.

The Autobot Commander shook his head, moving to tuck one knee onto the bed and slide his mass forwards. She backed up from his approach, slithering herself higher on the bed.

Optimus cocked his head, his optics darkening, pausing on all fours, "Are you going to be difficult?"

"Mmm... maybe." She had lifted her chin up in the air proudly. "What's it to you?"

His calculating, unforgiving gaze met her shrewd challenging one. This was going to be a battle of wills. He possessed the physical strength and experience. She had tactics and agility. Still, she didn't move as he positioned himself on hands and knees above her. Elita's spark jumped in her chest, making her grimace and tremble; _don't give anything away_, she growled at it internally, he'll see it, he'll know he's got me on the edge! She schooled her expression into one of blank unexcitement. She lifted her thigh up to nudge at the inside of his large leg.

"So, are you going to do anything up there or just practise push-ups?" Her tone was so bored-sounding, she had to force back a violent smirk of amusement. He thought he was so great? He didn't know the half of it.

Optimus didn't respond. He seemed frozen in place and unresponsive. A subtle shift in his expression in the semi-darkness warned her she'd ticked off something in his CPU. Oh, goody. Anything to get things moving. Optimus liked to procrastinate when it came to spark-joining. The human's foreplay had nothing on him, her mech had foreplay for the foreplay, nevermind the main event.

She watched as he carefully shifted his weight backwards onto his thighs, lightening up his arms. Balancing on one planted hand, he held out his other expectantly, letting it hover over her chest, palm upwards, his optics locked on hers.

"What?" she asked.

Silence. The hand didn't move.

"You want money?"

She swore that his mouthplates twitched into a grin for one measly microsecond then straightened out.

"Your hand. Place it in mine." His tone was deep and smooth. He was not going to betray how restless and eager his spark was for hers, as well as the fact he was enjoying having her waiting on his every macho desire.

Elita lifted her hand, wriggled her fingers at him, then slotted it along his palm. His fingers closed over it. She lifted an optic ridge. _And?_

"You left one behind." His optics were burning into hers with barely held back desire.

The rumbling in his chest made her thighs clench in desire. She snorted, whipped up her other arm and dumped her smaller hand into his palm as well.

With speed that was legendary and not often witnessed, he lunged forwards over her chassis and had her arms stretched up over her head and pinned to the recharge berth. Elita's body spasmed upwards, her chest arching up.

"HEY! Not fair! Let go!" She tried to tug free. Now wasn't that a stupid idea. His grip was unbreakable. Both of her hands were trapped together in his sure hold. He wasn't hurting her – the day would never dawn that he would hurt her – but she couldn't break free.

Optimus stretched his body languidly over the top of her. His massive broad form easily dwarfed hers, and the struggles of her body against it were inconsequential. Dropping his head down and pressing his cheekplates to hers, he literally purred in her audio, nudging around her head armor lovingly with his noseplates.

"Now isn't this better?" he asked with male pride, "You need to relax and let me do the work."

To make his command hit home even harder, his other hand settled over her chestplates underneath his own chest. He released another magnetic pulse right across her spark.

The femme shrieked. Her optics flashed off and her CPU struggled to cope with the surge of outright pleasure racing through her systems.

"Oh, _God_," Elita whimpered, shuddering in the aftermath, bringing her vision back up to par, "Y-you better not... ugh... do THAT a-a-gain or I'll-"

He did it again. And kissed her exposed throat areas as her head fell backwards from her arching spine. The pleasure seemed to go on for longer this time. The femme was right, he had better NOT do that again or he'd have her overloading without him.

"... s-s-s-stoP THAT!" Elita's screech of frustration made him bend down and laugh against her shoulder armor.

"You like it." He rubbed his chin against hers happily.

"That's not the point, you freaking pit-brain!" She couldn't stop her body from trembling uncontrollably against him. It was betraying her to him. It wanted more. She had been determined not to be easy prey when the damned mech had started his 'dominant male' act, but slag it, he was making it so _hard_. His restraining hands were adding to her excitement.

She bucked her hips with as much strength as she could muster. "Get off."

Optimus split her hands up so he contained one slender female hand in each of his huge ones, spreading her arms wide on the recharge berth and keeping her still underneath him by sitting casually on her hips with his own. His thumbs angled inwards and stroked her fingers, "No."

Elita was gearing herself up to say more when his chestplates began to slide back.

Her optics widened in wonder, and she went utterly still with ecstatic expectation. It was a miracle of Cybertronian engineering that his armor could so easily and without fault perform such a complex task. Each piece of metal and wiring eased up, down, or out with astonishing synchronisation, and Primus knew, Optimus was not a small or simple mechanoid. It wasn't enough to just 'open' the front plates, the rest of his chest needed to transform backwards as well if Prime was going to have any chance of getting his spark close enough to merge it to the spark within the opposing chest of his femme.

Elita's expression was wide and staring. This wasn't the first time she'd viewed her beloved's spark, nor would it be the last, but every time he exposed it from behind his formidable armor, she was struck senseless. It was beyond beauty. And it called to _her_; only her...

Optimus abruptly dropped his demanding act. Letting go of her hands and clutching the femme to his chest as a female would to a precious sparkling, he rolled both of them over so his mate was now sitting upon HIS hips. She perched there, startled. Her hands slowly grabbed onto the outer edges of his widened chest armor for support.

"Your turn..." Prime's reverent soft murmur shook her out of her daze. He was lying flat underneath her and waiting for her chest to open and greet his own.

Elita's optics didn't leave his open chest as her own plates began to move aside to bare her spark. She was trembling, Optimus could feel the shaking of her chassis perched upon his own. He rested his hands on the outside of her thighs and rubbed her soothingly – then his hands stopped their rubbing. His optics had been stunned by the small but intense glow coming from her excited spark. It had been ages since he'd viewed that special part of her. While his spark emitted a blueish-white color, and extended it's light over a greater distance than hers could, Elita's spark was throwing off a deep blue; almost purple; glow.

"Easy, take it slow," Optimus held back his own excitement to concentrate on his sparkmate, he helped guide her down with his hands to snuggle close into his open chest. He didn't want her to fall face first into the cavity his chest now represented. She needed to be careful.

She cried out when their sparks flared simultaneously, reaching desperately for each other. Her body wriggled and thrust itself towards his. She was going for it much too fast! Now he half-regretted stirring her up with all those magnetic pulses...

"Optimus..." her voice was a choked whisper, "now, do it now..!"

Not daring to wait any longer (not that he wanted to, in any case) he shifted himself so he was sitting with his back slumped to the wall above the recharge bed, allowing the femme above him to sit more upright on his waist and have more control. Elita was frantically running her hands all over his spread chestplates, sliding her fingers over his shoulders, and arching the front of her body instinctively towards his.

One of Elita's small hand dipped inside his chest and cupped the sphere that contained his spark. He hissed violently and arched his body to the point of causing damage to straining servos and hydraulics. The femme rode his rocking hips. The smile of delight on her faceplates that she was literally holding him in the palm of her hand made his own spark sing. His heaving body was beginning to overheat. They'd be hitting the washracks when they were done...

"Primus..." he guided Elita inwards with his hands under her armpits. Closer. Closer... rose-colored metal pressed firmly against blue and red armor.

He roared in shock when their sparks pre-empted them both and thrust long tendrils of spark energy out from their casings towards each other and connected with a flash of light. His fingers went slack and Elita's body dropped inwards.

Their sparks merged.

Steady streams of incredible pleasure and overwhelming ecstasy kept them both writhing and trembling on the recharge berth. Two metallic bodies acting as one being. Elita was squealing his name, drawing deep gasps through her air-intakes and then screaming it until her vocaliser began to cave-in from the stress.

Optimus was barely conscious enough to recognise the lightning-like flares of spark energy that ran up and down the exterior of their joined bodies in jagged sparking lines. Such an event only happened when the spark merge was done by an experienced couple and the sparks were a good frequency match.

At that moment, Prime was too overcome by the rapturous pleasure consuming his throbbing physique to think more of it. The ecstasy was peaking rapidly. His optics were disabled, his body shook, and he _felt_ Elita's presence blend with his own. The femme's screams receded in wonder when _his_ essence flowed into and around her own. For mere moments, neither could tell whose body belonged to who – where they began and the other stopped.

The pleasure receded, taking their intimate awareness of each other with it, and their sparks de-merged all too quickly.

"Ugh..." Elita began to topple to the side, her arms sliding out from hanging onto his neck. He grabbed at her, hanging on with what had been once strong arms that now shook with exhaustion and weakness.

He slid down on the berth, getting them horizontal once more. His chestplates closed. Elita's did likewise, and apparently without her direction since her optics were dark and she was moving sluggishly on his body like a newly sparked bot.

They lay in stunned silence for a while, before Elita began to stir, shaking her head and groaning groggily. "W-wow..."

"... Oh yes." He snuggled her even closer, sliding her gently up along his chest and cradling her head into the gap between his neck and shoulder. "Love you," he croaked.

She giggled weakly, clutching the width of his chest with slender arms and laying her cheek upon his protruding armor. "Love you more." Her fingers touched the bulging muscle cables standing up prominently on his upper arms. She traced meandering lines from his shoulder to his elbow. Prime felt the last vestiges of pleasure tingling in response wherever she touched.

Optimus began to drift off into recharge when his femme had ceased exploring his upper regions with her fingers and was lying still and recharging on his chest. Wasn't it amazing how every body part and system drained itself of stress and tension after a good spark merge.

"YOU BETTER BRING THAT FEMALE IN FOR ANOTHER TRANSFUSION AND CHECK-UP AFTER ALL THAT SCREAMING, FRAGGER!"

Elita's head lifted up off his chest, her mouth gaping. "What?!"

Optimus groaned, wiping one hand over his face, "Ratchet, for once, please frick off."

They heard a few clangs and yelps. Both bots stayed still, listening. Now what?

"Leave'em alone, Hatchet!"

"But I'm just- she needs;"

::SMACK::

"OWW! HIDE!"

"I don't give a PIT what you're 'just' doing, leave'em be!"

"BUT!"

"NO! Get outta here, you sadist!"

The sounds of harassment and violence outside Optimus Prime's door faded. Their rescuer was shoving the reluctant cranky medic down the hallway and away from their quarters.

Optimus relaxed back down again, holding Elita close. "There are times when I absolutely ADORE Ironhide," he mumbled happily.


	2. Chapter 2

**Scent of the Future – Special Edition**

Authors Note: This chapter is, again, dedicated to Plenoptic. She is my muse for Optimus and Elita fanfics. Onya girl!

Some of the 'interfacing' techniques in this are inspired by the fanfics of some other authors, specifically; **i-love-me-some-leggy-poo**, **Hearts of Eternity**, and **Litahatchee**.

Go read'em, they're great! Best fun ever. And good writing. ::grin::

**Chapter 2**

"Mmmph," Elita One reached a hand up to rub at her face, having to tug her arm free from underneath the heavy sleeping arm of her bonded.

The room was dark; she didn't remember dimming the lights. The femme was lying on her front. She'd rolled off the large mech she was sharing the recharge berth with to stretch out beside him (thick, sharp, armor was NOT the most comfortable thing to be recharging upon, regardless of how much Optimus wanted her to stay on his chest).

She rolled onto her back and stared at the dark ceiling. Her sensors told her it was still early morning. Faint rustlings and rumblings could be heard from the rest of the base beginning to kick into gear for the coming day. Ironhide's deep menacing voice was barking rudely at some poor late-rising mech to hurry up and reach his station before his aft got slagged by some early rising plasma cannons.

Her head looked to her left. Such a gorgeous view to wake up to in the morning. One hot, gorgeous, laid-out, recharging mech. She snickered. She was inspired to do naughty things to his defenceless body before he awoke and chastised her. She must've really worn him out if she'd finished her recharge programs before his, since at this time of the cycle, Prime was usually already up and prowling the base, checking things out before it became too busy for him to walk around quietly without interruptions. He was always up early. Even a welcome day off often saw him rising early. It was a habit she wanted to break him out of.

Unable to stop herself, she reached out a hesitant finger and poked him just underneath his antennae support structure. His head rocked slightly on the giving texture of the recharge berth. Prime grunted, shook his head a teeny bit, then went still again. His optics stayed dark.

Elita muffled a laugh with one hand over her mouthplates. She gasped at the shock of pain that flowed through her chest like a whipcrack.

"Owww! Oh... ouch..." she rubbed at her chest. Obviously, they'd overdone the sparkmerge last night. They shouldn't have pushed it so far and so hard. She could feel her underlying protoform aching at the edges of her chest where it had been in contact with the far harder plating of her mate whilst her chest armor was retracted for the sparkmerge. She'd been too busy to have any concern over her protoform being bruised.

The Femme Commander snatched a look at her mate again. He hadn't reacted to her exclamation of pain. Good. She was going to keep this to herself. If she could keep Ratchet and his probing scans away from her chassis it would help, too. Her protoform would heal itself in a few Earth hours. Her optics latched onto the hotter-than-hot body of her sparkmate. She grinned. Keeping busy wouldn't be a problem. She had such a _nice_ playground to work in, and spark merging wasn't the only way to be intimate with one's partner.

They wouldn't have much more private time like this – sleeping in, playing around. She hadn't been assigned any shifts yet. It wouldn't be long before she was caught up in the intricacies of running the base and getting settled onto a new planet. The Autobots needed all the help they could get. She was going to ensure any little time to themselves was squeezed clean of all the fun and intimacy she could get out it.

Optimus Prime began to come on-line at the insistence of his core programs warning him of an unauthorised chassis intrusion. His optics flashed, his head came up – to stare directly into the bright optics of one very alert and close-up Femme Commander.

"Hello." One of her hands was trailing it's fingertips back and forth over his chest. The other was... was... down near his... touching...

He stiffened. Oh. That was a secluded part of him that rarely saw the light of day. Even Ratchet didn't see it much, there was no need for him to check it over for anything. He was amazed Elita had remembered how to get the covering off.

"Uh..." He shifted on his back.

"I thought we'd try doing interfacing this morning," the femme announced brightly, "is that all right with you?" She punctuated her words with a combined squeezing and stroking motion to the piece of anatomy she had her hand clasped around.

His optics dimmed and he shuddered. Interfacing was akin to linking each others systems using exterior outlets and feeding pleasure back and forth to one another. Such a technique by-passed the spark altogether. Mech's had a long, thick, arrow shaped attachment, femmes bore a port that inversely accepted it. Interfacing was not anywhere near as excruciatingly, heaven-shatteringly, purely pleasurable as spark merging was, but it had it's merits, and it was far easier to control; especially when the said participants were tired or injured.

Or were femmes with sore chestplates...

Elita fingered the tip of his exposed interface. Tendrils of pleasure raced out along the circuits surrounding it. She delighted in his long groan and restless hips.

Optimus growled, "Come here."

"ARGH!" Elita was plucked up off the berth by his firm hands and settled along his length again. She struggled to push herself off but ceased when his fingers dug gently beneath the plating of her hips and smoothly caressed her underlying protoform. He was also pressing her abdomen into his own. His interface was becoming very warm up against her midsection.

The femme went utterly still, flexing her head backwards to expose the underside of her neck to her lover, who obligingly rubbed the naked metal with the palm of one hand. She purred.

Optimus lifted his other hand from her hip and up to his optics, perusing the dirt on his fingertips. "You need a shower," he stated matter-of-factly.

Elita dropped her head down and nuzzled his chin, "I did tell you that before you started groping me yesterday."

"Groping?! I do not grope!" he flustered.

"Groped. Major femme groping. All over. Groped everywhere." She grinned eagerly at him, "Commander Groper."

Optimus growled and heaved them both up off the recharge berth with a powerful surge. Elita squealed, hanging onto him to stop from falling to the floor. "Dirty femme," he snorted. "Dirty Femme Commander."

"My femmes are clean, slag it!" Elita wailed. "More then I can say for 'Mud-looks-good-on-me' Ironhide!" She was clutching onto his body with her legs around his hips and her arms squeezed tight around his neck. She craned her neck around to see where Optimus was taking them with long strides. Oh goody. Straight to the private wash rack. Better late than never.

Just as the huge male entered the small room containing the cleaning facilities, the rose femme acted on a naughty impulse. She slipped one slender hand quickly between their tight bodies and snagged two fingers around the exposed thick interface of her mate.

Optimus froze mid-step and grimaced, his arms full of devilish female. His foot slowly lowered itself to the floor. God that was nice.

Elita chuckled. Her fingers stroked leisurely. "Mmm? Whatsamatter?" she asked, her mouthplates forming the best pout they could manage, considering her mouth was organic metal.

Optimus Prime looked broodingly down at her. He juggled her weight so she was supported by just one hand under her aft. His other hand reached out, searching... finding...

...and utterly cold cleansing solvent cascaded all over them from above as his fingers hit the 'on' button.

"SLAG! WHAT THE PIT! THAT'S COLD, FRAG IT!" Elita screamed, cringing away from the pounding frosty liquid. One of her fists thumped up and down on the laughing chest of Optimus Prime. "_Turn the heat up_!!"

A few considerate tweaks of the control buttons and the flow of solvent turned hot and slowed down to a more gentle stream. Elita relaxed, grumbling. Optimus' amused optics looked down at her. He wasn't fond of cold either, but he could take it just fine, and wasn't prone to jumping about shrieking how cold it was. "Did I hear mutterings of females not being able to take cold very well like mech's can?"

"SHUT UP!"

"You don't _like_ the colder temperatures, Elita?"

"Would you like me to prove my female warrior prowess by shooting your interface off?"

Optimus laughed deeply. He loved his flighty, hard-as-titanium, occasionally slag-mouthed femme. He hugged her close, pressing her body into his taller form and leaning down to hold her tight. "Love you."

"Yeah, yeah." She tapped a finger on the end of his noseplates. "Prove your love and wash your filthy femme, lugnuts."

Once she was placed on her feet and the cleaning started, the Earth grime came off surprisingly quickly under Prime's gliding hands. He turned her around, concentrating on rubbing away with a cleaning rag at all the spots between her armor where dirt collected. Elita was content to stand and let him do as he wished. It felt nice to be attended to. His hands were very nimble and caring.

"Elita..."

"Mmm?" she responded lazily, her optics dimmed and face turned into the warm spray while his hands ran up and down her back.

"How did you get this?" His thumb ran gently over the uneven edges of the scar running the width of her abdomen. The wound was partially visible through the gaps in her armor.

Elita's optics narrowed. Her gaze dropped, staring intently at the floor. She tried to come up with something to say that wouldn't result in Optimus going absolutely on the fritz. "A Decepticon assault." Non-specific, but accurate.

"...and?" His deep attentive voice clearly stated he wanted more information. Who? When? And why?

"Please, not now," she murmured, abruptly saddened, "I don't want to spoil this moment we have."

The solvent continued to wash over both of them from above. The femme stood in front of her mech, head bowed, fingers clasping tight to his chest armor. A quiet sigh escaped from the Autobot Commander.

"Alright. Another moment perhaps, later," he said, and his hands rubbed at her upper arms, trying to soothe what was obviously a painful memory. He couldn't deny his own anger at the horrible injury she bore. And not just that, but why had it been left un-attended to? No Autobot should be left injured for any length of time.

A subdued clicking sound caught his attention. He looked down. Elita had opened the covering of her interface port, sliding the cover to one side and leaving it exposed and ready. Her head lifted. Azure optics stared up at him. Waiting.

His head cocked to the side, his expression curious, "You don't want a spark merge?"

She shook her head, "Later. Tonight. My poor spark is still recovering from the first one. It was pretty intense." _Please don't ask questions, please?_ she silently pleaded. "Besides, have you seen all the STUFF the humans get up to on the World Wide Web? Primus, what a bunch of over eager, under-sexed, desperate organisms! I'd like to believe we're more restrained and cultured than they are."

Optimus nodded with a faint smirk, pulling her body closer to his own. "Tell me about it. Everything they do and say is based on their species desiring to reproduce with the opposite sex, yet it's supposed to be taboo and kept quiet. Then why are there explicit pictures of humans mating constantly in every media form available?"

Elita's optic covers blinked at him, "EVERY media form?"

"Yes" he nodded, "pictures, films, books-"

"So you've been looking at them?" Elita poked him in the chest. Dirty mech indeed.

"Uh... no, just... it's hard not to... I mean.. I wasn't..." Optimus stumbled over what he was trying to say. He wasn't going to admit to actually searching for the lurid stuff.

"Mechs.." Elita scowled, "it doesn't matter what species, what planet, what galaxy; they're all the same."

"There is something I picked up that humans like to do," Optimus told her seriously, stroking one broad finger over her closed chestplates. He turned off the solvent. They were clean, and he wasn't sure about the humans, but their metal was becoming too slippery to handle.

"What?" She looked up warily at him, solvent dripping from her curvaceous body.

"Mate against the wall in showers. Like this." He picked her up, turned her around, pressed her back to the wet wall and settled her thighs on his hip plates. "Comfortable?" he asked.

"Not really, but you know this is- ohhh..." she drew a long gasp of air through her intakes, she'd been interrupted by Optimus easily sliding his thick interface into her open and waiting port on her lower abdomen with a push of his hips and the fingers of one hand guiding it in.

The mech didn't respond. His optics had gone dark. Upper body bending over her so her face was pressed into his shoulder. His programs were linking up with her systems. Searching. Finding. Inter-threading.

Found.

A swirling rush of pleasure surged out from their linked interfaces, causing Elita to arch up and gasp loudly. Optimus' hips tried to press further into her. His upper body shuddered.

The femme squirmed on the wall, "PRIMUS, this is _good_, keep going!" She could feel him weaving his way throughout her systems. A solid reassuring presence that put a broad smile on her face and made her fingers clutch tight to the sides of his chest. She wallowed happily in the pleasurable feelings overtaking her body. There wouldn't be a mind blowing climax. More of a gentle tingling peak when it was all over.

She felt him nudge questioningly at her CPU. Oh! Yes. She had to give him back something as well.

Concentrating, she interlaced herself into his digital structure, pausing here and there to send flashes of tingling pleasure through his various systems. He jerked and shouted when she deliberately fired up the wiring around his spark, exciting it and getting it to whirl in it's casing. He cursed at her devious prank (it felt great, but it was always a case of one-upmanship with them) and went searching for something equally amusing to do to her.

She chased after him wherever he went. A virtual ghost clinging to his aft and watching what he was up to.

Optimus wasn't going to stand for that. Back in the physical world, he softly placed his hand palm down over her chestplates and emitted a medium sized magnetic pulse.

The femme gasped and writhed, her attention taken off what he was attempting to do to her systems.

_Got you!_ Optimus grinned and went straight for the delicate control wiring extending out from her spine. With experience (and a few knowing tips he'd gleaned from Ironhide-The-Slut) he sent a surge of electrons straight up the innermost core of her spinal structure. He could sense Elita's virtual presence racing after him to see what he was up to – but it was too late.

Elita's body jolted. She screamed, her control broken by hot ecstasy. Her hands shook, her optics flashed, her thighs clenched so hard against him he winced. And as Ironhide had knowingly advised him, the pleasure Elita was feeling backlashed straight at him through their interface link. He cried out and dropped to his knees, only his extraordinary reflexes stopped them both from toppling over and crashing to the floor.

"Oh Primus, oh slag, oh pit," Elita panted, trying to reign in her spasming systems. "Where did you learn that?!"

Optimus Prime shook his head, unable to speak just yet. "Ugh." He tenderly broke the connection between them, sliding his interface out of her port. Elita winced. The pleasure was fading away. She didn't like the sudden absence of him from her consciousness.

"OPTIMUS! GET THAT FEMME OUT HERE IMMEDIATELY!"

Still on his knees on the floor, Elita cradled in his lap, Prime blinked down at his sparkmate, "Does he spend ALL of his spare time listening to what we're up to?!"

Elita chortled, "We are pretty loud, I think. And Ratchet seems very-"

"PRIME! I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME!"

"-caring."

Once the two had dried off and snatched another quick snuggling cuddle when Optimus purred at her gleaming clean metal, Prime unlocked the door to his quarters. He didn't find quite what he was expecting. It wasn't what he was looking at.

Ratchet was in a headlock on the floor, courtesy of Ironhide. The medic was cursing and spluttering. The Weapons Specialist was sitting next to him, keeping the angry medic immobile and under control.

"Hello Optimus. Elita. Have a nice recharge?" Ironhide asked sweetly.

"Get off! Get off! This isn't necessary!" Ratchet spluttered from his stranglehold.

"Shaddup," Ironhide rapped him on the head with one big fist. "You're a nosy, angry, interfering, mech, you know that? Optimus and Elita need some PRIVATE time together without you getting in their way. For once."

"OWW! Don't hit me!"

Ironhide grinned up at Optimus and Elita. "Jazz has broken out some high-grade in the rec room. Better go grab some before it all disappears," he advised them seriously. "Or Prowl confiscates it."

Ratchet squealed, struggling in Ironhide's unbreakable hold, "NO! Wait! I need to examine-"

::CLANG::

"When Ironhide says shuttup, Ironhide means shuttup," Ironhide informed his captive casually, motioning for the amused Autobot Commander and his femme to move along. "Or do you need another fist to the head?"

"Thank you, Ironhide," Optimus chuckled, escorting Elita down the hallway, "Ratchet, we will come and see you later, I promise. And please don't worry."

Ratchet whimpered in Ironhide's grip, his body wriggling. Ironhide patted him on the head. "Good bot."

If Ratchet had known what Elita One was unknowingly hiding behind her chestplates, the CMO would have happily nuked Ironhide's head to get his hands on the Femme Commander.

**... to be continued in Chapter 5 of 'Scent of the Future'. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Scent of the Future - Special Edition**

Authors Note: This is another companion chapter to 'Scent of the Future'. It was written specifically for **Plenoptic** as another 'idea swap' (she's doing an Ultra Magnus fic for me! YES! Happy day!) and this is set POST-Sabre, after Sabre has been sparked and is just learning his first words. Warnings for a dominant Optimus Prime and sub-serviant (well, almost!) Elita One playing with bondage spark-sex in this one. Please enjoy...

**Chapter 3**

Optimus Prime waited. He was standing outside his desert base, hands perched palm down on his armor-clad hips, face turned upwards to the reddish sunset, watching and waiting. His optics repeatedly (but lazily) scanned the surrounding desert for any sign of his bonded mate returning to the base. Nevermind that his scanners would tell him how close she was; giving him ETA, direction, speed, alternate vectors; just about anything he wanted to know – it was just that, his sophisticated sensors were nothing compared to finally having his own optics resting on the spark-warming sight of his beloved racing towards him in her alt mode.

His femme; Elita One, Autobot Femme Commander.

Elita had been visiting Sam's mother at her Tranquillity home. He'd sent Jazz to - _accompany_ her - as a token bodyguard. Even with Elita shooting him glares of death over ordering Jazz to follow along after her, he'd felt better to know there was someone with her who could provide support and back-up in the event of a surprise attack from Barricade. Elita One had not needed 'security' since she was a sparkling, and was annoyed that Optimus saw fit to provide her with one now. He knew there would be arguments and repercussions when she arrived home, and while he was desperate for her to come back, he was not looking forward to the recriminations.

A familiar squeak from behind Optimus made him half turn around.

"BEE!"

"Sabre, stop that, naughty sparkling, I can't see," Bumblebee walked towards Optimus' lookout position with the tiny mechling hanging onto his head and cheekily covering both his optics with small hands. He was sitting on Bumblebee's shoulders, dangling his stumpy legs over his chest and hanging onto his head. The Camaro's hands hung onto Sabre's feet to keep him from falling.

"Bee! Bee!" Sabre squeaked repeatedly, giggling. 'Bee' was still the only word he could say. Bumblebee was staring to feel that his five minutes of fame as the first word Sabre said was beginning to wear off.

Optimus turned fully towards them, smiling, "Sabby, don't do that to Bumblebee, he can't see where he is going."

Sabre grunted, removing his hands to a better position.

"Oh, thanks," Bumblebee sighed, relieved. He halted next to his Commander. "No sign of Elita yet?"

Optimus reached out and patted Sabre indulgently, then turned back towards the horizon. The last shafts of sunlight from the sunset glinting off his highly polished armor, "No. She is..." he cocked his head, assessing his internal scanner readouts, "... 2.36 Earth minutes away from our position."

Bumblebee's optics brightened, "Uh huh. Hear that Sabby? Your Mom is on her way."

"Bee!" Sabre chirped excitedly.

"Yes, Bee to you too."

Prime's head jerked up. His internal scanners were lighting up and reeling out breams of information on the vehicle approaching his position. He tensed. The sun's brightness had faded enough that his keen Cybertronian optics could just make out one pair of headlights far in the distance coming towards them.

Optimus frowned. Just one pair? Where was Jazz?

The Autobot Leader tucked his hands behind his back and waited for her to arrive. His scanners were just beginning to feed him information on where Jazz was. He was at least ten minutes behind Elita. Optimus frowned, shaking his head.

"Elita ditched Jazz?" Bumblebee asked, lifting an optic ridge. Sabre patted the top of his head and squeaked.

"It appears so," Prime grunted. The engraved latches and spinners on the side of his helmet armor whirred worriedly.

Optimus sighed. She was obviously coming back in a very disgruntled mood. Probably from being shadowed by Jazz for most of the afternoon. He didn't need to feel out their spark-link to know how affronted and irate she was with him.

He quickly ran through a few scenarios to jolt her from her angry mood. Ah! He had a good one. He stepped away from a curious Bumblebee and Sabre, transformed into his truck mode, lit up all of his lights, then stepped out from his own cab as a human holoform. The most gorgeous male human he could find on the internet, complete with tight black jeans, black boots...

... and a naked top half, displaying a wide, taut, muscled and tanned male chest. His flat abdomen displayed a six pack of lean muscles which curved and bunched as he moved. The whole package screamed 'Come and get me, girls'.

Sabre clicked and clapped his hands, amused. Bumblebee whistled. "Nice. You think Elita will go for that?"

Optimus arranged himself to be leaning back on his front grill, one ankle casually crossed over the other, one hand on his hip, the other arm bent back to lean on one headlight in the most alluring pose he could think of. "I hope so. She hasn't seen my holoform before."

"Good luck..." Bumblebee muttered. He didn't think anything would make Elita happier with being forced to take a chaperone on her first drive by herself.

The femme's engine was revving at its limit as her flashy rose red Mazda coupe mode approached them. She spun into a fishtail as she halted, throwing up dust. Her engine revved menacingly, spinning her wheels. Even the outstretched angel wings painted onto her hood appeared angry.

Optimus arched an eyebrow at such behaviour, not changing his masculine brooding stance. He shook his head fractionally so his dark brown holographic hair hung over his eyebrows, making his eyes appear hooded. He knew he must look enticing. Authoritive, but enticing.

Sabre began to shriek, waving his arms and bouncing on Bumblebee's shoulders. He knew exactly who that was. Mom!

Elita transformed, standing up smoothly and proudly in front of her sparkmate and sparkling. She looked down at Optimus' holoform, checking it out. With a grace only females possessed, she bent herself down onto one knee, eyed Optimus up and down closely, and growled, sticking her face into his, "It doesn't matter how impressive you try to appear, I am still angry at you. Don't you dare come near me tonight."

Optimus flinched. Damn.

Elita stood up, walked past her mate without another glance or word and retrieved her sparkling from Bumblebee.

The femme's face lit up as she cuddled him, "Sabby! Did you have fun with Bumblebee today? Did you? Thanks for minding him, Bee, I appreciate it. Now, lets go and get you some energon, hmm? My number one mech must be famished! We're not going to give Optimus any, are we? He's been so bad... he can go without fuel tonight..." Elita's words faded as she walked off into the base.

Both mech's watched her leave. Bumblebee looked down at a crestfallen Optimus Prime. "Whoops. I think she put you in your place, Sir."

Prime's human shoulders sagged. "I guess..." His holoform flickered out and his truck transformed into his upstanding mech form. His optics narrowed, his expression devious, "But the battle is not over yet."

"Oh. Isn't it?" Bumblebee grinned.

The roar of yet another engine caught their attention. Jazz's shiny silver Solstice mode slid to a messy stop in front of them. Heat rose from it in waves.

"I tried! Primus knows, I tried! Man, that is one annoying femme to tail! She kept ditching me," Jazz whined, knowing he'd failed in his mission. He transformed into his usual mech self. Faint swirls of steam came from his chest, his over-heated engine displaying its displeasure at being pushed to its limit. He patted his chest, wincing. "Owww! That hurts! Chest ache. Where's the Hatchet? Emergency here!"

Optimus looked down at his Lieutenant, sharing his pain, "You did your best, Jazz, thank you. I didn't think she would let you stay close. Please go and see Ratchet for your, er..." he winced at the hiss of steam from Jazz's chest, "injury. I hope it is not too bad."

"Damn right... Ow... ow, ow, ow." Jazz stomped off, grumbling. For one of the few times in his entire life, he was muttering something completely unsavoury about females - "Should've had Ironhide tail her. With a harpoon!" – but his grumpy mood wouldn't last long. Jazz could never stay angry.

Bumblebee reached up and patted Optimus on the shoulder. "She'll forgive you. It will work out alright."

"Will it?" Optimus winced, "And if it doesn't, can I recharge on the floor of your quarters tonight if she banishes me from our room? It will be quieter than the rec room. And I won't get stepped on."

"Of course you can, but I don't think it will come to that." Bumblebee reassured his worried Leader as they both proceeded inside the base. "You'll be okay."

Optimus listened to him, his spark lifting as another plan of attack formed in his CPU. If Elita insisted on playing dirty, he wasn't above doing the same. She might think Jazz was easy to shake off her aft, but the great Optimus Prime wasn't such a push over...

He found her conversing with Prowl in the Command room. She gave him one annoyed look over Prowl's shoulder with irritated optics before cutting short her conversation and exiting the room. She didn't say a word to him. He followed after her. Sabre gave him funny looks over his mother's shoulder and he smiled reassuringly at the sparkling, _Welcome to the world of irrational femme behaviour, Sabby_.

Sabre smiled back at him, squeaking.

She next dropped in on Ironhide. The Weapons Specialist was confused at being drilled by the Femme Commander over a non-essential arm mounted rifle for femmes, the black mech literally caught between a silent brooding Optimus Prime and a persistent, demanding Elita One holding Sabre in one arm. When the femme curtly thanked him and walked off without saying anything to Optimus, Ironhide was even more confused.

Optimus winked one optic at him and followed after Elita with long strides. He kept on her aft wherever she went, whatever she did. A silent companion. She refused to acknowledge him at all.

Finally, after the femme visiting and conversing with every mech in the base and leaving Sabre with Ironhide for the night (again), she stalked off to their quarters. He kept after her. He was caught out for a moment when their door opened; she slipped inside and immediately sent a signal to slam the door shut just as he was about to step in; so he was left standing awkwardly in the corridor. Shut out.

He was not upset at that. He had sort-of expected it. He sent a coded over-ride signal to the door control box and it opened immediately. He walked inside.

Elita stood rigidly, glaring at him, but she didn't say anything. In a fit of female 'you-can't-beat-me' rage, she began to walk straight past him and out of their quarters. She was insistent that she wasn't going to stay the night with him. He had to be punished. If she couldn't keep him out, she'd find somewhere else to recharge.

"Oh no you don't," Optimus smoothly snagged her arm as she brushed past. His large hand encased her upper arm in an unbreakable grip.

She shrieked, whirling around on him, "Get off!"

He didn't want to let go, but he also didn't want her to feel like she was being trapped by him. To off balance her, he sent the biggest surge of love he could manage through their spark-link, and it triumphantly did the trick. Elita wobbled on her feet, a token "Gah..." coming from her in puzzlement. With the female sufficiently dazed, he gently picked her now compliant chassis up.

Holding her in his arms, he walked over to their recharge bed, while leaning down and brushing his mouth components over one of her audios, murmuring, "Trust me on this..."

She blinked confusedly at him. Her spark was clinging ecstatically to the love surge he had transmitted, while her fogged CPU was angrily trying to shake it off. When she finally became more attuned to her reality, she found herself in big trouble.

He had handcuffed her to their recharge bed.

"What the SLAG are you doing?" she screeched, lifting her head up to glare at him, "You ignorant, over-charged, pompous, under-sparked, stupid excuse of a _MECH_!"

Optimus was standing at the foot of their recharge berth, watching her hurl useless curses at him, his arms folded defiantly over his impressive chest. His body was so taught and brimming with power she could hear his energon regulators humming from deliberate overcharging. Blue optics dimmed to the point of darkness. Expression steady. Oh pit. She _knew_ that look. He didn't pull this very often, and to be frank, she wasn't _really_ in the mood for it, but since she was locked to their berth by her wrists, she didn't see how to get out of this.

"Um... Optimus?" Her voice wasn't as confident now.

"I don't remember saying 'Femme, you may speak'."

"..."

"Better. Now, are you going to be a good femme or bad femme?"

"What are you going to do if I say 'bad'? Get Prowl to write up a report on my insolent behaviour? That'd be right, too high-and-mighty to touch a word processing board, you need a lackey to do it."

He was on her in an instant, pouncing quickly so his massive body stretched taut over hers, chest-to-chest, face-to-face, and Pit, did he look UNIMPRESSED.

"You will not speak, you will not move, you will not _think_, unless I order you too." His optics bore steadily into hers with every word. Totally opposite to his harsh blunt words, his hand trailed softly over her upper chassis, his experienced fingertips stimulating the receptors in her armor. His optics studied her underneath him. Compliant and ready for him.

"...O-okay..."

His optics locked back onto hers harshly, "NO SPEAKING."

She nodded mutely. Her spark jumped in her chest at how close he was. Having Optimus so intimately pressed to her body made it expectant that they were about to spark-merge. She felt some (but not all) of her anger at him begin to subside. He wasn't a natural at being dominant over a female. His instincts and programming made him too subservient and attentive to what a femme desired to be a demanding or rough lover, he'd had to learn (with her guidance) how to bend her to his will during spark related matters. She appreciated it when he made an all out effort to change his tactics at her request. Right now, she'd take what he was offering. She'd yell at him later for being an aft with ordering Jazz to tag her.

Her optics shuttered closed in pleasure. One of his hands was now caressing the inner seam of her right shoulder joint while his mouthplates swept over the left side of her stretched throat.

"Mmm..."

"Quiet!"

She flickered her optics in irritation. Oh, so, even moaning was out? He was being tough tonight. But she wasn't totally without weapons. She began un-dulating her body underneath his, making rolling contact. He stiffened then shuddered, but did not protest. He pressed his mouthplates to the exposed wires underneath her chin, nipping at the wire bundles he found there, and his engine cylinders making a rumbling-purring sound with pleasure.

The rose colored femme yelped and couldn't rein in a quick giggle when he got one bundle that was ticklish as well as pleasurable, and he immediately lifted his head to cock an optic ridge and stare appraisingly at her. Was she trying to defy him?

She faked a cough. Her optics dimming with a totally submissive and demure expression on her face.

He grunted, determining that she was still being obedient enough, then stretching out and going back to his throat stimulation.

He liked having her laid out underneath him. It was a thoroughly enjoyable feeling. Her armor was warm. Slightly smoother than his (she used wax more often than he did, he presumed it was a 'femme thing', not withstanding Sunstreaker's love for it as well) the rose red metal enticed and beckoned his large adoring hands. He lifted his upper body from hers to touch and stroke her indulgently.

Elita knew she'd be reprimanded for it, but she couldn't stop her legs from becoming restless. His hands on her chassis were always too much for her to politely ignore. Her fidgety feet swept from side to side. One knocked his upper thigh.

Whoops.

Optimus immediately sat up. He looked sternly down at her. "Can you not keep still, femme?"

Her CPU responded before she could think more wisely of it. A distinct Sabre-inspired raspberry came out loud and clear from her mouth. Oh, damn it. She was taking on her sparkling's bad behaviour by osmosis. A broad insolent grin spread over her faceplates. Just let him handle _that_. She shook her bound wrists in amusement.

Optimus Prime looked at her in disbelief. Growling, he surged off the berth. Without saying another word to her, he went to the storage cabinets on the opposite side of the room, his hands rummaging around, his broad armored back to her. She strained her head to the side to see what he was up to.

When he turned and came towards her she could clearly see what was in his hands. She blinked, amused. He was bringing out the big weapons now.

Again, Optimus slid his over-sized form next to hers on the recharge berth. One hand held up his prize in front of her face. "Females who cannot obey the rules are punished." He jingled the leg cuffs in his hand. "With further restraints."

He reached down her leg to attach it, but she hissed and jerked her foot away from him. She saw his other hand hover over her chest and couldn't think what he was about to do – and then her CPU shut down further thought. He swept a strong magnetic pulse over her chest, knocking out any resistance she could offer. The pleasure was so strong she couldn't stop from crying out. When she came back to herself, both ankles had been restrained spread wide to the bottom of the recharge berth. He'd even lengthened her wrist restraints to do so.

She rolled her optics, huffing. Thoughtful of him...

A hand cupped her crotch. He smirked down at her. "Are you ready to play now?"

Just to frag him off, she gave him a surprise. With a shriek of anger, she threw herself roughly against the restraints. Wrestling, fighting and thrashing. More shrieking. A few curses. One particularly nasty remark about his under-sized interface port. Then she lay still, recovering. Air intakes whistling.

Her optics re-focused to look at him. The fragger was standing next to the bed with his chestplates spread wide open. His spark was pulsing rapidly and eagerly.

"Well then. I see you've warmed yourself up for me." He slid on top of her with his thighs spread either side of her hips, tapping one finger on her closed chest. "Open up."

Heck with it. She wanted to resist some more. Her spark was calling eagerly for his, but this was getting fun. "No. Go and get Ratchet to overload you with a screwdriver." She paused for effect. "Sweetie."

The flabbergasted look on his face made her smile.

Optimus backed off a bit, muttering. He shook his head at himself. Sat back on his heels. He'd restrained her to the recharge berth, ordered her to be quiet, mag pulsed her – and STILL she was resisting! He smothered the grin trying to appear on his faceplates. Elita was one tough, hard-to-knock-down, female. He loved that. This dominance thing was hard for him, but look at the end results. His body and spark were so excited, his overload was going to happen shortly, with or without being joined to her!

The best option now was to do something considered rather risqué and dirty for a mech to do - join his interface port to hers and drive her into overload without touching her spark – until the very last moment when he'd have mercy and do a surprise spark merge.

He climbed back on top of her.

"What are you trying to do now? Have you lost your taste for Ratchet? Screwdrivers don't do it for you any more?"

He ignored her banter. He opened the cover to his interface port, revealing the thick broad appliance within. She wasn't taking any notice.

"Hey, why don't you ask Ironhide for some mutual loving? He uses things OTHER than screwdrivers, or so I hear. And what about trying Jazz, he can give you an absolutely smoking hot car wash that should make your spark circuits sizzle. You _might_ get an overload out of it, if you're lucky."

He lowered his crotch and nudged against her closed interface plate hopefully.

She raised her head and narrowed her optics at him, "As if I'm opening that for you! Why would you think – ARGH!"

He put his fingers to her crotchplate and mag pulsed her. Repeatedly. The surge of magnetism hit her straight down the interface circuits and flowed out to all the sensitive pleasure circuits in her chassis. Her vocals cut off. She couldn't even scream. Damn it was good.

Writhing in a world of pleasure without hitting the heights of overload, her interface port opened, and Optimus wasn't slow in accessing it. He thrust inside and spread himself out on top of her.

"You like that, hmm? Is it nice?" His thumb stroked her chin tenderly.

Elita groaned and shuddered. "Ugh... Oh..."

"I thought you'd like that. Usually you resist, saying 'No, Optimus, no, it tickles too much!'," his voice imitated hers perfectly. "But if you're not expecting it, it's much better than that, yes?"

She was still a bit out of it. Her body shifted. Her chestplates opened, transforming sideways and revealing herself hopefully to him.

"Oh no, no, no. You've been too disobedient for that. No spark touching for you." In tune with his words, he began moving on top of her, thrusting and grinding his interface port to hers. It would give her a lot of pleasure, and if he did it consistently long enough, she'd overload for him.

"Please... touch..." her words were a whisper. Optics pleading with him. "Spark... needing.."

"No." He managed to press the side of his head to hers, cheek-to-cheek, while keep his open chest high enough to not accidentally contact hers. His lower body kept moving steadily. "None of that. I told you to co-operate. Now you'll just have to put up with using interface ports only." He shrugged, making himself seem non-plussed by it. "Sorry."

To relieve some of her desperation, he raised a hand and trailed some weak mag pulse shots up and down her chest, staying clear of doing it directly over her spark. Her pleasure was intense. The naked spark in her chest was throbbing and sending out tendrils of energy towards him, beckoning. It was near impossible to resist. He grimaced, _Wait... wait.. please hang on..._

Elita was beginning to shake. Her optics looked at him in a fuddled haze. "Optimus..."

He almost broke at that. One word of 'stop' from her and it would be over in an instant. He pressed his forehead down to hers, murmuring soft words and upping the pace of his hips between her spread thighs. Almost there.

When her spark started to flare unevenly, stuttering, and signalling her approaching overload, he waited for exactly the right moment. When she went over the edge, crying out, turning her gasps into a scream, then he dropped his waiting chest down.

Their sparks merged with a flash. Backlash through their joined interface ports sent both of them into an incoherent state of ultimate pleasure. It seemed to last concurrently merely an instant and forever. He was eventually aware of her thrusting her whole body ceaselessly and forcefully against his as he began to descend from his incredible high. Elita was whimpering and restless. Tossing her head and moaning.

Their chests had disengaged automatically. Chestplates slid closed. Untangling their meshed interface ports was a little harder. He hoped his hadn't _melted_ at the intense data and pleasure exchange. He pulled it out, giving it a quick check. Nope, it was over-heated, but okay.

Tenderly, he gathered enough strength to release his femme from the restraints clamping her wrists and feet. She curled into him on her side with a happy moan. One small hand reached up to cup the back of his head.

"That was... nice..." she breathed, tucking her head into his chest and pulling her knees up.

"Nice?" He blinked. All that work, and it was just, _nice_?

"If you must know," she poked a weak finger into his abdominal armor, "that rates in the top ten of 'Optimus and Elita' overloads. Maybe number three, or two."

"Oh." He grinned. "I thought so too." He dangled a hand over her waist and thumbed her back plating absently, "Did I hurt you? Are your hands and feet okay? I mean, you put up a lot of resistance-"

She thumped a fist on his chest, "Shut up, you did not hurt me. I had fun." She was so intently aware of his presence it was near unbearable. He was so incredibly desirable. Her hands weakly stroked and petted the parts of him displayed in front of her.

"Good." He enfolded her in both arms, shifting himself around on the berth to get comfortable.

Engaging her recharge programs, Elita just had time to mutter instructions before she went off-line, "...we better get rid of the cuffs and clean the lubricant off the berth before Sabre comes back..."

He grunted back at her, drifting off. He'd do that in the morning. Before or after she started up the yelling about having Jazz follow her around...

_**In Ironhide's quarters a few doors down...**_

Ironhide lay on his chest on his recharge berth, both hands over his head. He was tired. The sparkling wasn't. "Sabre... go into recharge," his voice pleaded.

"BEE!"

The black mech sighed. He couldn't remember ever having this much trouble getting a little Bumblebee into his recharge berth for some downtime. It had been a long time ago but he just didn't recall it.

"Bee!" A giggle. Something bounced off his head. He didn't know what.

"Sabre! No! RECHARGE! And don't throw things!"

A flurry of raspberries came back at him. He sighed. His head lifted to look sideways at the tiny mischievous mechling sitting upright on his aft at the bottom of the berth. He'd never seen the little bot so hyped up before. What was going on? Was he sick? Deranged? Hey, he was Prime's spawn, it was possible.

A thought hit him.

"Oh. Oh, I get it." With effort, he heaved his large body to sit upright, picking up Sabre with both hands. The sparkling squealed, batting at his cupping hands with determination. "Optimus and Elita are, shall we say, busy. You can feel the echoes of that through your spark. No wonder you can't settle down."

Sabre sat in his cupped hands and blinked owlishly up at him. "Bee!"

Ironhide stared at him. "Hey, you know what?"

"Bee!"

"If you want Bumblebee, you can have him. Let's go." Ironhide stood up with an exhausted groan, Sabre cradled in one arm. Exited his quarters. Went across the hallway. Entered an emergency over-ride code into Bumblebee's door panel. When the door opened, revealing a recharging Camaro, he snuck in and deposited the restless sparkling right next to Bee's head.

"BEE!" Sabre squealed, waving his arms around.

"HUH?! What?" Bumblebee surged out of his recharge program to be greeted by Sabre hugging his head and patting him eagerly.

Standing in the doorway backlit by the hallways dim lights, Ironhide grinned, "You wanted Sabre for the night, you just got him, kid. Sweet dreams."

The big black mech left the room, chuckling, the door sliding shut behind him.

"Bee!"

Bumblebee whined, sitting up and rubbing his head. "How come you just got dumped with me? What did you do to Ironhide?"

In answer, Sabre squealed at such high pitch, Bumblebee's audios rang painfully.

"Oww. Don't DO that." He sighed. "It's going to be a long night, I take it."

"BEE!"

"Oh yeah. Long night..."


	4. Chapter 4

**Scent of the Future**

Authors Note: This is set after chapter 28 of 'Scent of the Future'. Warnings for stickiness and bot sex in this one, just like the other special chapters. This is dedicated to optimus prime 007. Enjoy, sweetie! Hope you like it.

**Special Edition Chapter 4**

**Autobot base, Ultra Magnus' quarters...**

Ultra Magnus stared at the beautiful rose-armored form of Elita One like she'd just ripped off her precious Autobot symbol and replaced it with a Decepticon insignia.

"Um...." Magnus' optics scrutinised her sparklings; Sabre and Safire. Prime and Elita's sparkling brood. The sparkling femme Safire was propped up in Elita's right arm, one tiny finger in her mouth being sucked while she stared blankly at the giant bot her mother was talking to. Sabre was standing politely next to Elita, blinking up the mech that looked so much like his Sire. "Uh..."

"Oh come on, Magnus, it isn't hard. Optimus and I both trust you implicitly. There's nothing to worry about, it really is very easy. I need some alone time with Optimus-"

An image appeared in Magnus' flawless CPU of what _that_ implied. His optics shot wide and stayed that way. Optimus Prime was his oldest and best friend, he would doing anything for him, _anything_, but he really didn't want to be told when Optimus was going to be engaging in certain activities with his cherished femme. Primus save him. Prime was everything to him, he was, but he drew the line at picturing him doing... doing... _that_.

"-and since you're currently free and available, why not?" Elita put on her best you-know-you-can't-resist-me smile, her blue optics twinkling, setting off the matt silver planes and angles of her face perfectly. "Look, tell you what, let's let Safire decide, hmm? If she will allow you to hold her, you must agree to looking after her for a few Earth hours. Agreed? C'mon Magnus, you're a big mech, not afraid of a little femme are you?"

Ultra Magnus honestly didn't think the tiny femme would go anywhere near him. Sparklings – especially female sparklings – were intimidated by his huge size, abundant armor, deep voice, and no-nonsense attitude. Not to mention his near complete lack of humor and inability to engage in 'fun stuff' that sparklings enjoyed. Playing games and talking in a silly tone were beyond him.

Magnus opened his mouthplates cautiously, "I guess that sounds fair, but I still don't understand why one of the others-"

"Arms out, solider," Elita ordered brusquely.

Automatically, Magnus held his arms out, the palms of his hands facing upwards. Before he knew what was happening Elita had positioned Safire in his hands and manipulated him into delicately carrying her sparkling femme by wrapping his fingers around her body and holding her.

_Gotcha! Just like Optimus_, Elita thought gleefully to herself, taking a step back with a victorious smile. Give him an order and he follows it without thinking that maybe he doesn't want to do it.

While Magnus stared down with shock at the small bundle he'd been saddled with, Prime's daughter looked around cautiously from her new position. Her little optics travelled upwards, taking in the sheer mass of the bot she'd just been handed to. Elita's intakes froze; praying to Primus that Safire wouldn't begin crying or shrieking. Luck was on her side. Safire gave a small sigh and stuck her arms out towards Magnus' chest – hug?

Ultra Magnus felt that familiar sinking feeling that happened whenever one of his command decisions went awry, or the Con's came up with a new trick. He'd just lost this round. He shifted Safire so he was holding her against his chest. Safire blinked and looked at his massive chest with awe, laying her tiny hands flat upon it. Just like Sire!

Elita didn't waste any more time. She cuddled her sparkling son to her lower leg, patting his back before directing him to stand with the huge adult mech towering over him. "Sabre, stay with Magnus, I'll be back for you in a little while. Thanks ever so much for this, Mags!" With that, the Femme Commander disappeared down the hall.

Ultra Magnus stood in the doorway to his quarters with a perplexed expression, one sparkling in his arms and the other at his feet. He sighed, moving his gaze from one sparkling to the other. "I guess I'm on sparkling duty..." Safire cooed at him. Sabre blew a raspberry. "Optimus, enjoy yourself, because you will be owing me some serious debt credit for this. _Serious_ credit." Propping Safire in one immense and powerful arm, the big mech rubbed at his forehead plating. "Maybe we can call Bumblebee and Jazz in for some help..."

Sabre skipped boldly into Magnus' rooms and began to investigate anything and everything that looked interesting.

_**In Prime and Elita's temporary quarters (Optimus broke their previous rooms)...**_

Elita strode confidently into the recharge berth room of her quarters – and felt her ego and anticipation deflate. Optimus was stretched out on his front on their recharge berth, his ankles dangling his humongous feet over the side of one berth edge, and his arms laid out in disarray by his side, his head turned sideways and his optics unlit. The fearsome, mech-wrecking, all-knowing Autobot Commander was absolutely flat out in recharge.

Huffing a growl of disappointment and standing still while tapping her fingers on her thigh and thinking, Elita thought up a plan of action. His aft did look so nice from this angle. It was easy to think about reaching out and running her hands up and down his back and ending in one long sweep over his aft plates.

Knowing that Optimus wasn't easily brought out of recharge in his own quarters, Elita slowly and soundlessly eased herself onto the recharge berth. With infinite care, she threw one of her thighs over his lower back and settled herself down comfortably to sit on his solid frame. She leaned forwards. Her hands spread out to run slickly over the armor of his small door wings fitted above his alt mode fuel tanks into the upper curve of his back. Her mouthplates planted a kiss on the back of his neck.

"Oh Optimus... I know I don't often tell you this, but I'm so glad you're mine..." she whispered, nudging her noseplates into his neck. "I couldn't take it if some other femme had her hands on you."

She froze when a small grunt came from him. When he didn't offer any more noises and didn't move, she relaxed. After admiring his form for a while longer, and teasing herself by stroking the armor of his back and shoulders, she decided it was time for him to wake up. And she knew just the best way to get his attention too...

Stifling her excitement enough to only show a broad devious grin, Elita lay herself down delicately along her sparkmates broad back, and slipped an arm down around his waist. With a bit of inventive hand wriggling she made contact with his main crotchplate. She bit her lip. Where was that little latch he'd shown her before – CLICK - ah, there it was. Prime's groin armor partially retracted. She pushed it aside the rest of the way. His very mechly goods were now at her mercy. She could only get two fingers in there, but that was enough.

"Don't let me down, Orion, work with me here," she purred softly at him.

The big mech rumbled a groan. His hips undulated, pushing her up into the air on his back.

"That's my mech. You've never refused me before, I know what your interface drive is like, if there's any chance that you might be able to 'get some' you'll be the first mech with your hand up in the air." She brushed her mouthplates over his back armor, "Don't want your adoring soldiers to know that, do you?"

As if he could hear her, a double grunt came from the recharging mech. She thought the game was up when he lifted his head – but he was only moving it so he could lie with the other side of his face down on the padded berth. She froze her fingers for a moment. He re-settled and stayed quiet.

...and then his sheathed interface spike came sliding out into her hand. It was nicely warm and VERY eager, even if the rest of his body was still in rechargeland.

She blinked in surprise, "Oh! Well. You've done me proud, Orion. That part of you never has any issues."

Because Optimus was lying on his front, his long spike was forced to bend sharply upwards underneath his abdominal plates and be compressed by his body weight.

"That's gotta hurt a bit..." Elita murmured, rubbing her hand on his shoulder strut. "Can't let you damage yourself. Time to wake up, bigbot."

She wrapped her whole hand around his thickness, and squeezed hard enough to get a response from him.

Optimus Prime's optics flashed on and he jerked himself abruptly up onto his arms, "What the?!", his attention focused on the sneaky hand that had slipped itself down to his crotch and was holding him intimately. He hung his head down between his arms to stare at his thickly upright exposed interface which had a sly feminine hand encased around it.

Elita smiled, releasing his erect spike reluctantly and sitting up on his hips. She rested her chin indulgently on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, did I wake you up, sweetspark? I didn't mean to." She smiled coyly. "Honest."

His head turned to look at her. Large blue optics looked with amusement at twinkling azure female optics. "Elita..." Prime groaned.

The Femme Commander poked him in the back of the head, "Nope, no whining, you're filthy. Only clean sexy mechs are allowed on my berth, not dirty sexy ones. You need a wash before you recharge. Into the wash racks with you. Come on."

With a series of deep grumbles and more than one irritable glance her way, Optimus clambered slowly off the berth and meekly followed her into the wash rack room with tired steps. Couldn't she wait until AFTER he'd recharged? He stood and leaned his bulk on the doorway while watching her start the solvent spray and adjust the temperature. He glanced down at his prominent erection and grimaced at it, muttering, "This is all _your_ fault. Any femme comes within sniffing distance and you can't control yourself," he flicked his forefinger lightly over the thick head, watching the stiffness bounce from his touch, "we need recharge, not humping and spark merging."

Holding one of her hands under the solvent outlets, Elita sent him an appraising glance. "From the beginning of time mechs have been trying to control that thing. I'd give up if I were you."

Optimus rolled his optics and stood up straight. His chest armor flared outwards. "Autobots don't give up, Lita."

The femme snorted, putting her hands on her hips, "What happened to the mech that was smirking his way down the corridor and chattering about 'wash and wax, femme, wash and wax', hmm?"

The Autobot Commander lowered his head sheepishly, "...I guess all that rampaging took more out of me than I thought. I am tired. My apologies."

Elita stared at her bashful tall mech lounging in the doorway. She could never fail to be impressed by the overwhelming maleness of his imposing presence. His power. His size. That wide chest topped by even wider shoulders. The exquisitely made thighs that were as supple and strong as those possessed by Primus himself. Narrow hips that made her groan with desire whenever he casually slung his thick silver rifle from them (he usually stored his rifle underneath his back armour, but he knew how to warm up her systems by simply placing it on his hip instead, while giving her a sultry hooded stare and a pulse over their sparklink).

"Are you certain this can't wait until morning?" Optimus asked hopefully, using the same expression and hopeful vocal tone that his sparkling son Sabre utilised when he wanted something he knew he shouldn't have.

Elita placed her finger on her chin thoughtfully, "We could... but then Sabby and Saffy will be back, and I don't think you want them to see what's currently standing at attention between your thighs, my love. Sabre doesn't need the interfacing talk yet, and Safire would just be horribly confused."

"Good point," Optimus rumbled, stroking one finger down his length. He sighed, taking one long stride forward and ducking under the multiple wash rack sprayers. He looked down at her and nodded, "Ready when you are."

His femme sparkmate watched the solvent beginning to stream down his huge body and closed her optics for a moment, willing her heating up systems to back down. She wasn't going to jump him just yet. Her brave and heroic mech really did deserve some pampering first. When she charged up her optics again, Optimus had leant his head back to cover his faceplates with liquid. His mouthplates pouted. His optics dimmed themselves under the onslaught and his optic sweepers clicked several times, clearing themselves of dirt particles. Optimus held his arms out and watched the solvent pouring down his lower body and legs turn brown from the embedded dirt.

"There was more filth in there than I realised..." Optimus chuckled, arching an optic ridge at her.

Elita snorted, gathering up some cloths and scrubbers. "Lean on the wall if you get tired. Let me get to work."

"I've heard those kind of words before," Prime playfully flicked some solvent her way, making her squeal and duck. "But do you mean to deliver?"

Prime got slapped on his aft for that one. He laughed at her.

"Stop that, mech!"

Smiling, and giving his femme many adoring and loving glances, Optimus let her strut her stuff. She was a hard and diligent worker, his female. Optimus found himself being scrubbed, cleaned, and worked over until he thought she was going to rub his paint off. He wondered about when she was going to pay attention to the only part of his physique that hadn't been dirtied – his straining interface – since she hadn't made any moves to touch it. Yet. Only when her strokes turned sensual and her hands glided down his grill covered abdomen did he relax and allow his arousal to bloom. The warmth she was producing in him from smoothing her splayed hands around his midsection, and up and down his thighs, made his spark throb with need.

One bold hand slid up his inner thigh – and rubbed at the underside of his erection.

Prime leaned his forehead on the wall and stopped trying to rein in his pleasure. Desire for her filled his chest while lust lit up his CPU.

"You better get rid of that before I wax you. It sticks out too much, it'll get in the way." She then pouted, thinking. "Um, no, better wait until after you're cleaned and polished, I think. Business first."

Optimus knew exactly which body part she was referring to. "Get rid of it? Femme, you don't have enough respect for my 'Prime' qualities."

She 'hmmmed' at him, then a finger poked experimentally at a spot underneath his upper chestplates where his split windscreen was. "You've got some stuff embedded in there. Open up so I can clean it out."

"If I open up, you might get quite a mess on your front from what is happening down below. Are you ready for that?" Optimus said lightly, turning his helmeted head to meet her optics with his own.

It had been a while since he'd had an overload with his interface. He didn't think he could stop himself if his beautiful rose-red femme began playing around with his spark at the same time. That would be murder. It would be a quick – but spectacular – conclusion. And he'd probably end up in a haze of post-overload happiness on his aft on the tiles at her feet with a transfluid covered sticky femme laughing at him.

"I think I can handle that outcome, my love," Elita answered, leaning into his lower body to press a kiss to one of his headlights. A small clicking sound make Prime's antennae perk up – literally.

His femme had just opened her interface port. He wasn't the only bot in the room getting worked up.

Elita jumped when one of her sparkmates hands went between her legs and cupped her crotch warmly.

"Getting eager for me, femme? Are my 'Prime' qualities turning you on?" Optimus rumbled softly, pulling her firmly against the front of his heated wet body and leaning down to bite at the side of her neck.

When he ran his fingers up her back armor and arched his hips into her body while sucking on one of her neck cables, Elita jammed her hands against his grill-covered midsection and shoved herself backwards. She hit the slippery wall behind her and stood panting. Slag, her body was doing everything BUT holding signs up on sticks screaming, 'TAKE ME NOW!'. Traitorous piece of metal.

"NO! Stop that!", she pointed a shaking finger at him while he held his arms out with his mouthplates parted in an innocent gesture of 'What did I do wrong?'. She felt like stamping her foot but she restrained herself. "I am going to _wash_ you, and get you waxed up, _then_ you can fool around. Not before!"

Elita almost lost the plot when her massive mech dropped his arms to his sides and stuck his bottom lip out in an expression of 'don't wanna'. If Sabre was going to be acting like this when he got his final body upgrade and became as huge and powerful as his sire, she would be in trouble. Putting her son in his room for time out and sitting in the corner wouldn't work.

Optimus was getting frustrated. He tried to shake her up a little. Widening his shoulders and giving her a defiant stare, he wantonly opened his chestplates. The red and blue flamed armor split down the middle of his chest then retracted across his ribstruts. "Even if you refuse to touch me, I am more than capable of bringing myself to overload. We mechs are very skilled at it." The excited blue-white spark in his bare chest flared and vibrated at her. "I very much desire to share pleasure with you, right now, right here. Please?"

She stared at him, blinking.

Keeping his optics square with hers, Optimus stroked one big finger over his spark casing. Tendrils of spark energy wrapped around his digit and glowed brightly. The solvent coming down his chest sizzled and turned into steam where it contacted his bare spark. He reached down with his free hand and squeezed his hard male length – and Elita couldn't do anything about it but stand and growl at him. Hers hands curled into frustrated fists. Optimus knew she was really fragged off when she hissed. The femme was thunderstruck by an intoxicating combination of indignation and awe at the sight of her mech standing tall with his chestplates swept open, head bent back, his spike sticking out in front of him and throbbing – and he was making no move to reach out to her or encourage her to join in because she wanted him to get clean first. Slaghead!

Still touching himself, Optimus casually glanced around the small washing room. "It is a shame there isn't an oil bath in here. I would love to toss you in it and make you happily scream for me."

Hating being ignored, Elita narrowed her optics at her mate, swore in Cybertronian at him – he could fragging well clean and wax himself! - then spun on one leg to leave; and shrieked when strong arms threaded themselves around her body and lifted her up into the air. She struggled and yelled when he pushed her backplates up against the wall and held her there with his superior mass. When she began to protest about the coldness of the wall, he upped the temperature of the solvent jets and directed them to stream fluid down the wall so she had one less thing to yell at him about.

Prime knew that when it came to all things involving his beloved femme, he needed to make her as happy as possible by keeping the things she could whine about to a minimum.

Optimus nuzzled and pressed his mouth against the side of her head, murmuring, "Open your chestplates for me."

"You wish! You're not getting me that easily! I -"

Giving her a 'I'm-not-impressed' glare that he usually reserved for badly behaved new recruits, he covered her smaller chest with one big hand and sent the largest magnetic pulse he could muster into her body. Her plates parted for him rapidly. He smiled at the way she moaned and arched her back, her spark quivering openly in response to him.

Despite the sweep of pleasure taking over her systems, Elita still fought back. She pushed her faceplates into his right shoulder and thumped a fist on his chest lightly while groaning, "I'm getting Magnus to kick your aft for this... we can do intimate stuff _later_, not now! Clean and wax comes first!"

Prime smiled and smoothed a hand down her back, patting her, "You would do better to get Ironhide to perform the task of kicking me, femme. I have no fear of Magnus doing something like that, he just would not act in such a fashion towards his Leader."

Elita panted, squirming, "Ratchet will do-"

Optimus shook his head at her and vibrated a series of small mag pulses across her abdomen and down into her groin. She shuddered in his arms. "Put your legs around my hips," he demanded. Male pride swelled in his chest when she shook her head vigorously in denial but her thighs obediently lifted to settle snuggly across his hip armor. Smart femme. Her feminine port was now easily accessible to him. "Ratchet will do what, sweetspark?" he asked her mildly.

"Remove your-" her words became a shriek when he rudely interrupted her by sliding a thick probing finger into her open interface port, "-_interface_! Stop that!"

"Mmm – no." He stopped gently feeling the interior walls of her interface and pushed his finger inside of her completely, her lubricant smothering him and easing his way in. Then pulled out. Back in. Out.

Her hips hitched against him. She thunked her head back against the wall, hung onto his neck, and ground her jaw in frustration. "Evil... ugh... slagheaded... _ugh_... Optimus!!"

"Evil?" Prime lifted an optic ridge and clicked his vocaliser at her, the spinners on the side of his head rattling, "Now if only all the Decepticons were female, I could have won this war and saved our planet a long time ago, don't you think?"

"DON'T BRING POLITICS INTO THIS~!"

He sighed dramatically, giving a shake of his regal head, "Yes, femme."

Placing his thick thighs wider under himself to brace his body and give him more leverage, the massive mech began his assault on the female body he was holding captive. When she surged against him, he lifted one hand from holding her hips up and swept his thumb back and forth across her cheek. "Shhh, don't struggle so much. You do enjoy me pleasuring you, don't you?"

Elita panted, "Not when you're taking advantage because you want to play! I should let you walk around covered in muck, if that's what you want!"

"Oh Elita," Optimus delicately pressed his forehead to hers, "you are a strong femme and you like to fight, but you have to let me pleasure you when I see opportunities to do so. Magnus has our little botlings, and YOU-" he tapped his finger on her chest playfully, "are all wet and in the wash racks with me. Give in. Please?"

She stared at him. The peaceful, hopeful, smile on his face, the solvent cascading down his faceplates and onto his delectable body. Hadn't she made a pledge with herself to try and be less argumentative and more agreeable with him? His spark – the part of him that only she (and Ratchet, when he needed to) ever saw - was bare and glowing fantastically brightly in front of her face. The part of him that many Cybertronians revered with mystique and thought of as having God-like qualities. He had given that part to her. Hers. Whenever she wanted it. Maybe she didn't want it often enough.

Her optics lifted to his – and softened.

"Come here, you," she lifted her faceplates up towards him, "I think this femme needs ravishing."

His optics sparkled brightly. Happily. If his antennae had been physically able to perk up straighter, they would've. "One Prime ravishing coming up."

She grinned widely at him as his mouth descended towards hers, "I hope you can put out what you think you can."

A few shifts of his weight, some verbal expressions of pleasure, and the male and female Cybertronian found themselves entwined in a powerful sparkmerge. Elita refused to complain at the hard thumps of her sparkmates chest pressing almost violently into hers. He did scramble inelegantly against her body a little. When your mech wanted 'in' so badly, protesting about it was bad form. Anyone watching them would've thought he was hurting her, but that wasn't the case. Pain belonged to another universe, not theirs. With Optimus' complete essence ruling her spark, and her physical body following it like a cyberpuppy, she was a completely satisfied femme.

...the Femme Commander did ponder abstractedly about the warning flashing on her internal display. She guessed at what it was, and knew she'd be visiting Ratchet later. Then Optimus wouldn't be the only mech with a disgruntled femme poking at his chestplates.

Optimus Prime was quick to follow up the blinding flash of their sparkmerge with the physical connection of his hardened spike within her wet interface port. As they came down from their sparkplay, he lowered them both to the wet floor and voided the space between their groins. Keeping himself flush to her hips, he pumped and strained his overload into her. Her body accepted his transfluid as a part of itself. He'd done it enough throughout their relationship that her systems had long ago classified it as a pseudo part of her, and not something foreign. She followed him into an explosive climax shortly after. Her hands roamed and clutched over his spread chest armor and she moaned her pleasure out loud.

With his hand clasping the back of her neck, he couldn't take his optics off her climaxing body. He kneeled on the floor with her impaled on top of him and cradled her tenderly through it. Elita arched. She strained into his embrace while he made soothing verbal sounds, and shook hard, her faceplates grimacing at the double pleasure.

When it was over, they both sat silently. Elita with her back strut slumping and aching from all the pounding it had taken, and her face turned cheek first into his shoulder, her thighs spread wide and dangling at the knee over his male ones; Optimus with his legs folded kneeling beneath his body and his arms clasped solidly around her back. The solvent coming down over both of them was becoming annoying. He reached out a hand and blindly turned it off.

Both of the wet bots sat pressed to each other. Not wanting to move and disturb the happy warmth of post-merge and post-interface haze.

A slight cough. A rumble from a big chest. "Alright?"

Elita shifted against him. He was a lot of mech to take between her legs, but she liked it that way. "Yes." Her hand felt around her midsection then dropped into her lap. "Fine."

Words were always few after their joinings. Their sparks were satisfied, their sparklink was still echoing and overloaded with love and a feeling of 'completeness'. Nothing much was waiting to be verbalised. They were whole. Neither of them wanted to disturb the feeling.

Optimus eyed off their bare recharge berth through the open wash rack doors. That looked enticing. He swayed himself backwards enough to fully close his chestplates and grunted while getting to his feet with a blissed-out femme clutched to his body. He slipped his spike from her port with the change of body positions. Elita didn't protest. She stayed huddled in his arms like one of her sparklings would, and let him transport her to their place of rest.

Lying beside him, she wiggled her body as intimately close as she could to his larger frame, and followed him into recharge. Waxing would happen when she awoke. Later. When her hands were strong enough to touch his body again without shaking. When she awoke to see his clean self and reached automatically for the wax supplies.

And maybe... maybe another round of merging and interfacing. Optimus was a Prime, after all. He had reserves that other mechs didn't. She would make a very poor Femme Commander if she didn't take advantage of that...

_**Ultra Magnus' quarters...**_

Ultra Magnus lay back on his large recharge berth and sighed. His hand was splayed out over his faceplates, blocking his view. It was easier that way. Easier to block out the mayhem that was him trying to control sparklings gone mad.

On his left side sat Safire. She was currently siting upright on her petite aft and ranting about something in a rapidfire series of clicks, warbles and trills. Sabre, her brother, was sitting on the _other_ side of Magnus with his short arms crossed pompously over his chest and a 'You suck!' expression on his faceplates. He was declining to get into whatever argument his sister had started, and was practising his 'silent treatment' act. Just like his sire.

The hand that Magnus was holding over his face slipped downwards enough that he could move his optics from one pissy sparkling to the other.

The big adult mech sighed, "I do not know if you can understand me or not, but truthfully, I am sad to say that this is just like being caught in the middle of an argument between your creators, and I am not enjoying it."

After a quiet moment of contemplation, Safire sent her angry clicks and whistles in his direction while waving her arms haphazardly and Sabre glared at him with a ferocity that was a little frightening.

Magnus placed his hand back over his optics and pretended it wasn't happening. "Just like those two, my aft. You're worse!"


End file.
